Ginger Magnum

?Here i am, new and alone in a big town. Like Zzzzzzzzzorg just landed from a new galaxy. No water to swim in anywhere, only in the puddles, but they aren't deep enough to allow diving or bombing. I have regressed. My new life starts today, so hopefully, I will get to meet a few other space travellers. Everyone is young. Seemingly, really young, like 10 or something ridiculous. I feel like a pervert which isn;t far from the truth. Segway. All the girls have blonde hair and look like they have been created (quickly in the dark) in a girl band factory and were all on a bus that had an accident with a make-up truck. All the boys have spots and wispy facial hair and have clearly over-indulged on mars bars, sweating into their pillows and masturbation. Probably all at the same time. It's quite funny. When i grow my SKEEZY GINGER moustache, i will fit right in. I will be the king of facial hair and all the little pubescent boys will follow me around asking for advice about growth rat...

I cut my hand today. I pulled it open to see how deep it was. There was no blood. I think the veins were in shock momentarily, so I smacked my hands together to wake the whole area up and I started to leak milk. There was no blood. I don't even drink milk. Where did it come from? I squeezed a few drops out and let them fall into my tea. It made the tea bubble with cumulonimbus. I used my finger to stir it up. It burnt. Why Have I started to bleed milk? I am sure that for most of my life, the juice in my veins was red not white. Is it cow's milk, or goats or breast? Semi-skimmed or full fat? I wonder if this is going to have an effect on my overall health. Maybe I am one of the one in ten thousand people in the world with setus invercus. Having a heart on the right hand side as opposed to left. Maybe this move has happened overnight and the process of change has caused my blood (if I can still call it that), to turn into milk. I wish I hadn't cut my hand.

Here is my latest portrait. Acrylic on card. I got paid for doing this. Earning money from this work was so sweet. I have never earned any money from my art and I was totally chuffed to get paid for something that I consider to be an integral part of who I am. Ray Bradbury wrote that " Everyone must leave behind something when they die[...] a child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do[...] so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it, into something that's like you after you take your hands away."

My cousin and his wife had a baby daughter yesterday in the room where I used to watch T.V. as a kid. In fact, she was born in the very spot where I ate Christmas dinner for fifteen years and where I used to make a den under the table and read Treasure Island. She's called Pollyanna, I think, but ,knowing the parents, that will probably change. She is much smaller than a Christmas Turkey, but she will grow.